


like cain i love thee

by VerdantMoth



Category: Marvel
Genre: (I think that's right?), Brother/Brother Incest, Brothers, Competition, Fighting, I mean, Incest, Jealousy, M/M, Pre-Canon, Sort Of, True Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-23
Updated: 2019-01-23
Packaged: 2019-10-15 06:04:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,564
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17523281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VerdantMoth/pseuds/VerdantMoth
Summary: Thor kisses him right after Loki shoves his hands into Thor’s chest.





	like cain i love thee

Loki’s first memory, solid and revisitable, comes shortly after they celebrate his fifth birthday. There are others from before, vague half-dream flurries of shapes and colors and sounds, but this one, this one he can almost hold in his hands. 

Thor is at the center of it. When he thinks back, Thor is at the center of most of his memories. But this one,  _ this moment,  _ changed his life forever. 

He is five and sitting in his mother’s lap. There is cake on his hands, and in his dark hair, and cake smeared into the corner of his brother’s grin. His brother, golden and blinding and even at five the one he knows is his future, who runs about the table high in celebration and sugar. 

Something begins in Loki, as he watches Odin’s eyes track his eldest. Some unnamable thing as he sees how wide his father grins, how it seems to propel Thor into the sky, beyond the reach of Loki’s own tiny fingers. He screams then, rage and worry and  _ unnamable thing, _ swirling in his gut like worm meat. 

He screams, and he learns. Because Mother cradles him and his father frowns at him but  _ Thor, _ Thor comes to his rescue. Not like a damsel, but like the very idea of little Loki being anything other than perfectly okay might be the death of Thor. 

 

\---

 

Odin likes to challenge his sons. Foot races and sword fights, jousting once, and horseback riding, any manner of sport he can test his sons against. His eyes are ever assessment of their improvement, some standard hidden behind blue that Loki can never quite measure up to.

At first it is fun. Loki, though younger, is not so much smaller than his brother to begin with. Thor can out lift him, best him with metal, but Loki is  _ fast _ . Fast enough that Odin looks at him with something almost like pride. 

Looks are power. Mother looks at Thor with detached amusement and regards Loki with something akin to pity. She is gentle with him, tries to shield him from Odin’s expectations. He slinks beneath the crack of their door, a tiny little wormy thing, and listens as Mother begs Odin, “Be kind with your expectations and gentle with your demands.” She sees him on the ground and when Odin turns she winks at him, then shoos him away.

Odin studies Loki. He looks at Thor with adoration and pride, but he regards Loki with detached wariness and resigned disappointment. Even when Loki cross the line, when he’s leagues ahead of his sunshine brother, Odin’s eyes are heavy on him. He looks at Loki like he is waiting; like his second born is the prediction he cannot bear to fight. Loki spits at his own feet and brushes his father’s hand from his shoulder as he storms to his own chambers. 

Thor doesn’t really look at him; not the way most people do. He’s used to eyes waiting for him to slip, watching his lightening fast hands and cautioning the cruel glint of his smile. All of Asgard knows of his tricks and all of Asgard has tied their purses to their  waist as if that has ever stopped his fingers. Thor’s eyes crinkle and he tugs at Loki’s wrist and he gets them into all manner of trouble, (really though, it’s Thor’s idea most of the time), but he never  _ sees _ Loki, even has he runs a hand through Loki’s dark hair. 

Why that latches onto the base of his spine so uncomfortably, Loki chooses not to know.

 

\---

 

Loki stabs Thor in a fit of adolescent rage. It’s (mostly) an accident. Or, he thinks it was. How the entire fight got started, is mostly Odin’s fault. Loki likes to argue all of their fights are Odin’s fault, but no one really listens to him. 

They’re chasing the hills behind their home. Loki practically flying and Thor literally doing so. At first it’s silly fun; Loki kicking up dust from the tall grass and Thor trying his hand at small burst of electricity. Mother and Odin watch from a balcony and it’s one of the few times they’re allowed to simple  _ play. _ Thor’s goal is to see how many shocks he can get in and Loki’s goal is simply not to be struck. 

He’s not sure how far they are, but he knows it’s farther that Odin’s eyes should really be able to see. Certainly farther than his voice should carry. But then they hear “Come now Thor. You can do better. Aim for his chest if you need a bigger target.” 

Because he is watching, Loki sees the way Thor falters, the grim hesitation in the press of his lips. But then his sunshine brother draws his brows together and aims. 

Odin should be proud of the bolt that sends Loki sprawling through the dry grass. He’s not sure where from, but he suddenly feels the cool metal of a throwing knife in his hand and Loki launches himself through the air. His aim is true, and when the dust settles his straddling Thor’s chest, knife wedge just below his left clavicle. Thor grips Loki’s wrist and it’s not exactly betrayal in his eyes, but something close. 

The chaos after is a flurry of Mother’s wailing and Odin’s rage and Thor’s absolute confusion. Loki slinks off as soon as he can, unsure if he intends to return.

He sits in a little cave, staring at his hands. No one had ever told him gods could bleed, or that their life force would feel so warm against his chilly skin.

 

\---

 

Thor sees him after that. He never takes his eyes off Loki. Not with the same concern that burdens Mother, nor with Odin’s apprehension. Thor seems more expectant. As if he knows something and he’s just waiting for Loki to realize it. 

Loki hides, afraid of those piercing eyes. Thor never lets him rest though, always barging in to his little sanctuary loudly and exuberant. Talking his little brother to the ground and pinning him there with his weight. 

“Play with me, little brother!” Thor demands. 

Loki tries to wrestle his way from beneath him, but Thor grows larger every day and he’s heavy. Loki tells him so. “You’re crushing me you fat oaf. Haven’t you got some other poor, little, runt to beat up on?”

Thor grins at him. “Ah, but no other little runt is a challenge the way you are. After all, none of them hide in the form of a beetle to watch me slip in the shower.” 

Loki’s skin flushes and Thor’s smile grows sharp. “It’s true, I see you brother.” He presses the heels of his palms to Loki’s shoulders, briefly frowning against the coolness of his skin, before asking, “Have you shown Father how many forms you can take? How quickly you can alternate?” 

Loki gives up struggling and lets himself be pinned. “Odin has no time for parlor tricks.” He deadpans. He focuses though, not on new body shape, but a smaller size. Thor’s grip tightens, as if he knows exactly what Loki is attempting. 

“Brother, have mild respect for Father at least,” Thor sighs, tightening his hands each time he notices the way his grip is loosening. But he forgets to shift his knees and Loki manages to gain enough leverage, despite his smaller frame, to knock his brother from his perch. 

Thor’s head hits the ground, hard, and he blinks. “You beat me in wrestling, and Father misses it.” 

Loki shrugs, “Odin has always missed my finer moments. He reaches a hand out to help Thor up, some misplaced softness in his heart. The thin tunic his brother wears shifts, and Loki can see the faintest imperfection beneath his brother’s clavicle and he can’t stop himself from reaching out to prod it. 

There’s no other imperfection on Thor’s skin, no other weapon that has left a mark, save for this small divot caused by Loki’s impulses. Thor shivers, eyes dark, and Loki doesn’t know if it’s because of the ice Thor swears is in his veins, or something else. 

Loki blinks himself out of the cave, and doesn’t go back for many moons. 

 

\---

 

There’s a specific, impossible to pin down, time right after midnight but before the sun comes up that Loki loves. It changes each night, when it occurs, but that moment when the universe is the darkest and coldest it’ll get, stars spotting the sky lazily, he loves. 

It feels uncomfortably like home, and he never dives into that particular feeling as he lies in the grass and cups the moons in his hands. Sometimes Thor will join him. He usually comes out in nothing but his smalls, eyes half opened and hair sleep mussed. He curls beside Loki, and wrestles around until he can pillow his head on Loki’s legs. Loki runs his hands through ridiculous blond hair, tugging occasionally just to hear his brother huff.

There’s no Asgard here, watching their ruler’s sons. No Odin pitting his boys against each other and no Mother trying to sooth their edges.

There is only Loki, tired but content, and Thor, stroking Loki’s legs like he might pet a kitten. 

They don’t talk, not usually. But sometimes Thor will dig his fingers into Loki’s thigh, angle his head so that his lips brush Loki’s hip. Loki scratches behind Thor’s ear, curls against him, into him, and closes his eyes as lips ghost over a single imperfection in apology. 

 

\---

At some point, Loki just… stops growing. He’s small, even by Asgardian standards. Not necessarily short, but  _ lean _ in a way Asgardian males aren’t. It has the disastrous effect of making his competition treat him gently, despite Loki’s unapologetically cruel fighting. More than one opponent has left clutching their groin and seriously worried they were going to lose vital parts of them.

Odin doesn’t say much about it. He sends Loki on missions all the same, but never the same ones as Thor.  _ Thor _ , who comes home bathed and blood and vibrating with the rush of a well fought battle.  

For the most part, Loki likes tending things with Mother. He just doesn’t like the patronization in everyone's eyes as they watch him.

But he and Thor are never directly pit against each other, though Loki can still see that unreachable standard in Odin’s eyes as they talk over dinners. Thor seems restless though, when he finds Loki. Always reaching out to ruffle his hair or pinch his arms or tug his ears. They don’t often get to meet late at night anymore, and Loki half wonders if that’s the reason for the tension in his brother’s shoulders.

It’s an insane thought, but it’s one that feeds his imagination when he throughs the covers off his skin, when he strokes himself, when he bites his palm so no prying ears can document his shame.

 

\---

 

Thor kisses him right after Loki shoves his hands into Thor’s chest.

A lot of other things happen first; Loki’s as a snake and Thor frightened, and there are diplomats and banquets and furious father’s and disappointed mothers, but most important in Loki’s mind is Thor kisses him while Loki’s hands are warm with his brother’s blood.

His lips burn, and his thighs, where Thor’s hands still rest, and he can see the absolute bafflement in blue eyes staring at him. He flexes his hand, and Thor groans. It shouldn’t shoot through Loki the way it does, but when has Loki ever responded  _ appropriately _ . 

“You were meant to move!” Loki cries. His fingers tremble inside his brother’s chest and there’s a whole crowd staring at them blankely but no one is  _ moving _ , no one is  _ getting help _ .

Loki turns in a wild burst, pointing at the first person he sees. “A healer! Find a damn healer!” He turns back to Thor who has finally wrapped a hand around his brother’s wrist. “Damn you, Thor, of all the times to do something like that!” 

Thor blinks, owlishly and innocently. “Why were you reaching for my heart?” 

Loki raises his other hand helplessly. “I only meant to scare you. You should’ve known to move. You always move!” 

People spring into action and Thor is whisked away and Loki flees in the face of his Father’s horrid sobs. 

 

\---

 

Loki has spent most of his life cold, even during the summer seasons. He’s never been bothered by the chill, never really understood why Thor sometimes flinched when he first brushed against his brother. 

Now though, with his knees tucked beneath his chin and nothing but a tunic on his back, his whole body shakes violently with the chill. 

He hasn’t gone back since the disastrous banquet. 

Thor finds him, hours, or days, or months later. Of course Thor finds him. Thor has always known where he is.  _ Who _ he is. 

“I’m sorry,” Thor says quietly, knocking their knees together. Loki turns to him, disbelief carved into his face. “I did see you coming, but…” Thor’s brow furrows the way it does when he’s thinking. “I thought you were going for something different.”

Loki studies that sharp jaw, golden in the fucking moonlight. “You thought I was going to kiss you.” It’s not a question, but Thor answers anyway. 

“Had it not crossed your mind?” There’s a knowing in his voice that makes Loki’s shoulders burn. 

“Brother,” he begins but Thor cuts him off. His lips are surprisingly soft, given the firmness of the rest of him. Soft, warm, and spit-slick, and so fucking confident against Loki’s own hesitant mouth. 

This perhaps, Loki thinks, is where they differ the most. Thor has only ever hesitated in the face of Odin’s demands. Loki has only ever hesitated in the face of Thor’s, well, face. There’s nothing slow between them now. Thor lays his brother flat, lifts the tunic over his hips and digs his fingers into the sharp bones just above Loki’s dark curls. 

Loki lets him, lets his own fingers find that imperfection on Thor’s skin, searches for a new one. He finds nothing but smooth skin over his breastbone though, and feels Thor’s amusement against his lips. 

Loki pulls back to squint at dark blue eyes. “Mother offered to have them fix it, you know. But I like the little divot,” Thor answers his unspoken question. 

It makes absolutely no sense, but nothing Thor does ever really makes sense. Loki pushes forward, shoves until Thor lets himself be forced onto his back. Loki bristles at that, in the face of his own weakness, but he doesn’t let shame stop him from striping Thor of all cloth, from pressing himself into his brother. Tasting, licking, biting- for all that Thor looks like sunshine, he taste like lightning, burns his way electric through Loki. 

 

\---

Nothing really changes between them. Odin still holds them as standards against each other. Mother still frets about their competition. Asgard still bows before Thor and tucks hands into pockets before Loki.

Thor’s still a fat oaf and Loki a little runt. But they soften the blows of their weapons, if not their mouths, and there’s a hidden cave that has seen them curled skin to skin against each other. 

Loki fears he will always be jealous of his sunshine brother, but Thor laughs, bites into his mouth, and burns the fear from beneath his skin.


End file.
